Payback
by theconsultingdreamer
Summary: Dean gets his revenge on Sam. Wincest, you have been warned. Sequel to Breakfast Time, you don't have to read that to get this, but it'd be nice if you read it anyway.


I got requests for writing Dean's revenge, so yeah. Sequel to Breakfast Time, you don't have to read it to understand, but it'd be nice if you did. J

It had been a week, and Dean still hadn't made good on his promise of payback. Sam was starting to get a bit nervous. Obviously, Dean was planning something big. But being the victim of revenge was not on his mind when Dean tossed him the car keys as they prepared to drive through the night. "I'm gonna rest a bit before I take over, you drive."

Sam rarely ever got to drive; he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. They pulled out of the diner they had stopped at for dinner, and Sam relaxed into the rhythm of driving down the long highway.

He was lost in his thoughts, assuming Dean to be asleep, so he was completely unprepared when a hand appeared on his lap, directly on his cock. He choked and swerved, thanking God that there were no other cars on the road. "What the hell?!"

Dean's voice was smug. "Two hands on the wheel, two eyes on the road, Sammy."

Dean had taken his hand away, but Sam was already half hard. It dawned on him that this would somehow end up with Dean's revenge. Sure enough, the hand was back a moment later, stroking the inside of his thigh. Sam shifted uncomfortably as he felt himself becoming completely hard. He tried to push his crotch into Dean's hand, but Dean pulled his hand back with a laugh. "Nope, not how we're playing the game, Sammy."

Sam groaned. "Dean…"

Dean went back to stroking Sam's thigh and hip, avoiding the one spot that Sam REALLY wanted him to touch. "Seriously, Dean?"

"Paybacks a bitch, Sammy." He moved his hand so his fingers were lightly ghosting over Sam's cock. Sam gripped the steering wheel.

He was surprised when Dean yanked open his jeans and roughly pulled him out. It was hard to keep focused on the road as Dean started moving his hand faster. Sam moaned loudly, trying not to buck his hips into Dean's hand. "Fuck, Dean!"

Once again, Sam was very glad that they were in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night. He didn't need to crash into something and kill them both. But _God, _the way Dean was making him feel. "Dean…don't stop…ah I'm so close…" He whined in frustration as Dean yanked his hand away. "Ah! Damn, hell!" Dean laughed as Sam tightened his death grip on the steering wheel and cursed angrily, his still hard cock throbbing in his lap. After two full minutes of no stimulation, Sam couldn't take it. He dropped one hand down to his lap and started jerking himself off. Dean was having none of it. "Hey!" he whacked Sam's hand away. "I said two hands on the wheel!"

"Dean, please!" Sam was desperate. Dean went back to lightly stroking his fingertips over Sam's cock. Sam groaned. "More!" The sensation was driving him crazy, he needed relief."

"Nope." Dean took his hand away completely. Sam stayed silent, and was rewarded with gentle strokes. "Payback really is a bitch, Sammy. You're so close, aren't you? So close, and yet it isn't enough. Need more, don't you Sammy?" Sam moaned, nodding. Dean smirked. "Would you like my mouth? My hot mouth on your cock, sucking you? How would you like that?"

"Christ, Dean!" Sam was moaning, panting, on the verge of begging. Dean sped up his hand. "Do you want me to fuck you, Sammy? Do you want my cock? Do you want to feel me inside you, moaning your name?" He proceeded to start moaning as if Sam was jerking him off, not the other way around. "Oh, Sammy…oh god yes…uh…Sam…"

Sam keened in frustration. That was a low blow. But combined with the slow movements of Dean's hand, the moans were pushing him towards the edge, closer, closer…

"Fuck Dean I FUCK!" Sam bucked his hips furiously into Dean's hand, coming all over himself and the hand. He came hard, seeing stars and yelling Dean's name to the heavens. As he came back down, he realized Dean was laughing. "You're a bit messy, Sammy."

"Fuck you."

"Next time we see as motel."

Sam ignored the drying stickiness on his shirt and jeans and pressed down the accelerator.


End file.
